Slipping Through Time
by TobiasBoon
Summary: "He would have to watch as everyone he loved slipped away from him." A series of scenes throughout Merlin's life as he struggles to come to terms with his own immortality. Post season 5, follows canon events. No slash.
1. 29

Merlin wasn't sure when he first began to notice.

At first, there was just too much to do for him to really think about it. What with becoming both Chief Advisor to the Queen and Court Sorcerer (titles Gwen had wasted no time in bestowing upon him after she officially took the throne), heading up the campaign to peacefully restore magic to the land, and forming and leading a group of skilled sorcerers to aid the knights in defeating Camelot's enemies with both swords and magic, Merlin was so tired at the end of the day that he generally fell asleep without changing his clothes, let alone looking at himself in the mirror. The first time anyone even called attention to it was at the feast celebrating the 5th anniversary of Gwen's coronation- and predictably, that person was Gwaine.

"I thank you all for coming to this celebration of our past five years together," Gwen's clear, confident voice rang out across the banquet hall. She looked radiant, every bit the strong, wise queen her kingdom had come to revere. Merlin, sitting on her right at the high table, thought that no one else would ever guess that she had spent most of the morning crying in her chambers while trying to prepare tonight's speech. No one else would understand why as Merlin did, either. For tonight wasn't just the anniversary of Gwen's queenship- it the anniversary of Arthur's death.

Merlin wrenched his mind away from those thoughts and forced himself to focus on Gwen's speech. For once he didn't already know what was going to be said- Gwen, unlike Arthur, wrote her own speeches.

"These past five years have not been easy ones. Camelot has been stretched, changed, crafted into a new and stronger kingdom. We have moved into a new era in Camelot's history; an era where sword and sorcery work hand-in-hand to protect our beloved kingdom. Old prejudices have moved aside in the name of peace, but achieving that peace was not a simple task. Transitions are never easy, and I can say with complete certainty that our current state of prosperity would not have been possible without all of you. Knights, lords, subjects," she paused and looked straight at Merlin, "magicians, thank you for all the hard work that you have done these last five years. Today is a day to honor you and the sacrifices you have made for the love of Camelot. Of course, we also honor those who paid the ultimate sacrifice in our quest for peace. We will never forget those we lost, but because of their efforts and yours, we can see what we have won- a kingdom where all are accepted and appreciated, a kingdom feared by all our enemies, the kingdom of Camelot!" Gwen finished triumphantly, and the whole room burst into applause.

"Long live the Queen!" somebody shouted, and the call was taken up by the entire assembly. "Long live the Queen!"

Gwen stood, queen-like, until they quieted and then announced,"Let the feast begin!" This declaration was greeted with an even louder burst of cheers, and in the frenzy that followed, Gwen was able to return to her seat and bury her face in her hands.

"That was good," Merlin said quietly after she looked up again. "I probably could have made a few tweaks, you know, made it sound just a tiny bit better, but-" He stopped, grinning, at Gwen's swat on his arm.

"Charming as ever," she replied, her voice dry, but she seemed more steady now, so Merlin thought his joke had accomplished its goal.

"Arthur would have been proud of you, you know," he said, looking steadily at her.

She looked curiously at him for a second, then said, "Thank you, Merlin." They sat in silence for awhile, which allowed them to easily hear the knights' conversation at the table just in front of theirs. Not that Gwaine was ever difficult to hear at a feast.

"Percival, you glutton-head, pass the ale over here," Gwaine proclaimed loudly.

"Absolutely not," said Percival, moving the jug of ale as far away from Gwaine as possible. "I don't know how you manage to show up drunk before the feast even starts, but I'm not going to help you drink yourself to death."

"So I popped into the wine cellar this morning for a little pre-feast celebration, so what? If I haven't died yet, it'd take more than a little ale to kill me." That made the sober knights pause, as they remembered how close they had come to losing Gwaine five years ago. Percival had come in with Gwaine's limp body, saying Morgana had tortured them and Arthur was in danger. Gaius, after assuring Gwen that Merlin could protect Arthur perfectly well on his own, took Gwaine to his own chambers and prepared to do battle for Gwaine's every last, shallow breath. For three days, Gaius stayed by Gwaine's bedside, working tirelessly just to keep him alive. When Merlin arrived back in Camelot, he used his magic to contain the poison in Gwaine's left leg, which Gaius then amputated just below the knee. Gwaine would never fight again, but he was regarded as a hero throughout the realm. A status he tended to use for not-so-chivalrous ends.

"Gwaine, you have got to stop bribing people to get you drinks just because you're you," Leon said disapprovingly. "You'll be old before your time!"

Gwaine burst into drunken laughter. "You shouldn't be talking, Leon. I think I see some gray hairs in that curly mop! Feeling your age, old man?"

Everybody laughed at that, even Leon. "I think everyone can say that, Gwaine, even you. We're not exactly the strapping young lads we were five years ago."

"I am," Percival said, striking a pose to show off his formidable muscles.

Gwaine elbowed him in the stomach, breaking his pose and making the rest of the table laugh more. "I don't think so, Percy-boy. Getting a little bit of a gut, don't you think?"

"Not as much as your beer-belly," Percival mumbled.

Gwaine ignored him. "And... yes, I believe I see the dreaded wrinkles appearing on thy youthful brow." More laughter followed.

Percival chose not to take offense to their teasing. After all, it was true- they were all getting older. "Well, we can't stay young forever, I guess. We're all different from how we were five years ago."

All three knights glanced around the room, looking for other changes. The most obvious was the absence of Gaius- the court physician had finally grown too old to make it to the feasts, and spent much more time in his chambers than he used to. The queen was as lovely as ever, but even she had lines on her face that had not been there five years ago. Everyone seemed to have changed except... "Merlin's not," Gwaine said, pointing up at the high table.

Merlin started and glanced at Gwen. She looked as surprised as he felt, but she studied his face for a second and then nodded.

The knights were also looking at him. "I never thought I'd say this, but you're right, Gwaine," Leon said. He peered closely at Merlin while Merlin pretended to become very interested in his plate. "Merlin works harder than any of us, but he looks the same as he always has."

That did it. Merlin stopped pretending he wasn't listening and grabbed an empty silver platter to study his reflection. His face stared back at him- pale skin, blue eyes, high cheekbones, big ears. Exactly as it had looked for the past five years. He looked for any sign that he was approaching 30 years old, but found not even a single wrinkle.

Gwaine had noticed Merlin's reaction and called up to him. "Hey Merlin! What kind of wizard keeps himself looking fresh and leaves his friends to wither? You couldn't be bothered to work that spell on me?" Then he laughed and hiccuped, obviously not aware of what he was saying.

"Oh, come off it, you drunken sot, Merlin's not using a spell," Leon said, attempting to keep Gwaine distracted while Percival slyly moved the tankard of ale to the next table over.

Merlin decided to help him. "Yes I am," he said. Gwaine and Leon immediately fixed their attention on him. Merlin winked at Leon before saying very solemnly to Gwaine, "You've found me out, I AM using a spell to keep myself young and handsome."

Leon snorted, and Gwen choked on her goblet of wine, obviously enjoying the performance. Gwaine, however, seemed to buy every word. "Really? Can you do it on me?" he asked.

Merlin got up from the table and turned, unable to keep a straight face any longer. When he had composed himself, he got down from the dais and walked over to the knights' table. Percival was returning, having taken advantage of the prolonged distraction to move the ale to the other side of the room. Merlin smiled and turned to Gwaine. "I can, but it's a very powerful spell. Are you sure you want it?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, if you're sure..." Merlin leaned in close to Gwaine and said in a staged whisper, "It's called not being a drunken clotpole!" And his eyes flashed gold.

When Merlin pulled away, the entire assembly roared with laughter. Two donkey ears had appeared on either side of Gwaine's head, and a rope-like donkey tail poked out the back of Gwaine's seat. Gwaine tried to give an outraged yell, but a loud bray emerged from his throat instead.

"You- you've d-done it, M-M-Merlin," Leon spluttered. He could hardly sit up for laughing. "He looks b-better already."

"Handsomest ass I've ever seen," Percival barely got the words out before he broke down, laughing so hard tears came to his eyes.

Eventually, Gwen told Merlin to put Gwaine back to rights (though she had to wipe her own eyes before she could give the order). The rest of the feast continued as usual, long and merry, and neither Merlin nor anyone else gave another thought to Merlin's appearance.

Until six years later, when Gaius died.


	2. 35

_Until six years later, when Gaius died._

"Merlin?"

Gwen cautiously opened the door to Gaius's workroom. It hadn't been used in years- Gaius had eventually become too feeble for the narrow, twisting staircase- but the place was still a mess. Books lay scattered on every possible surface, forgotten potions and plant clippings were strewn about the floor... and the door on the far wall was slightly ajar. Gwen smiled sadly and walked over to it. "Merlin, are you in there?"

No reply answered her call, but she gently pushed the door open anyway. Merlin sat there, dressed in his usual tattered brown jacket and red bandana, crying bitterly into his hands. Gwen felt an unexpected sense of déjà vu; seeing Merlin, in his old clothes, in his old room, was like looking back 11 years ago. Nothing had changed- not the room, not the jacket, not even Merlin. But that wasn't important at the moment. Right now, her friend was in pain.

Gwen didn't say anything for awhile, simply sat on the bed next to him and rubbed his back with one hand. He didn't seem surprised that she was there, but it could be that he wasn't really aware of his surroundings. Gwen wasn't sure how long they had sat there when she realized Merlin wasn't crying anymore. She reached into her purse, pulled out a pocket handkerchief, and held it in front of Merlin's face. He took it, wiped off his face, and blew his nose before handing it back to her. "Thanks," he said shakily.

"Not at all," she said. She put a hand on his shoulder. "That was a very nice speech you made at the funeral."

Merlin sniffed. "I had to say something. He was like a father to me, Gwen. He-" but Merlin couldn't continue.

"I know, Merlin," Gwen said. "And you were the best son Gaius could have wished for." Merlin looked up, startled, into Gwen's kind, sad eyes, and he was reminded that she, too, had lost her father.

"Does it ever stop?" The words were out before Merlin even knew he was going to speak. Gwen looked at him.

"Hurting? Not really," Gwen said. She gazed at an area off to Merlin's right, speaking to herself as much as to him. "At first it feels like the world is ending... and even after some time, when most memories bring more pleasure than pain, it still creeps up on you every once in a while..." She trailed off, but Merlin's voice brought her back to reality with a start.

"No, I mean... does it ever stop? All the sickness, and pain, and _dying_..." He nearly spat the word out, but even so it left a bad taste in his mouth. "So many, just... gone..." He slumped and looked down, not even sure himself what he was trying to say.

"I know it's hard," Gwen said, tears in her own eyes. She of all people didn't need to be reminded how many friends they'd lost, how many faces they would never see again. "But we do all die eventually, Merlin. And Gaius had it as good as anyone could hope for. He lived a good, long life, and he had you to take care of him."

"And I failed," Merlin said, adding silently, '_just like I failed Arthur_.'

"Merlin, look at me." Gwen's voice was low and fierce. "You did not fail. You cared for Gaius as well as-better than- anyone possibly could. It was just his time, don't you see? He was old. We've all gotten older, it's just...part of life."

"For some people," Merlin mumbled. He finally looked up to meet Gwen's eyes. "Gwen, I need to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly, all right?"

"Okay..." Gwen said slowly, puzzled.

"Do you think there's something... wrong... with me?"

"Merlin!" Gwen said, shocked. "What do you mean, wrong with you? You are one of the bravest, kindest, most talented people I've ever met."

"No, I mean, er, thanks, but..." He swallowed. "How old do I look to you?"

"Well, umm..." Gwen said, caught off guard. "Actually, umm, you look great, you look..."

"How old?"

"Maybe... Early 20s? 23, 24, I'd guess." She studied him even closer, searching for signs of age, and becoming more and more intrigued when she failed to find any. "You really haven't changed much, have you? Not since-" but she cut herself off, realizing too late where that sentence was going.

"No. I'm starting to think... At the funeral this morning, I was trying to think of how it would be when it was my turn-"

"Oh Merlin, don't talk that way!" Gwen exclaimed, but Merlin just shook his head.

"Come on, Gwen, you said it yourself; we all die eventually. But I just... couldn't do it."

"Pardon?"

"I couldn't do it. I can't picture myself dying, Gwen. I used to be able to; there were several times when I was about to sacrifice myself for Arthur, but now... it's like a foreign concept. And all of you have changed but I still look like this..."

"I think you're reading too much into this, Merlin," Gwen said, looking slightly alarmed. "I don't think any of us can really picture our own deaths-I'd be more concerned if you could. As for the other thing... you're a sorcerer, maybe you just don't show your age like most people."

"Gaius had magic," Merlin muttered, obviously not convinced. Gwen sighed.

"I don't know, Merlin, but I don't think it's something you need to worry about, alright? Unless you're telling me you're some sort of all-powerful immortal or something-" she laughed, but the sound died in her throat when Merlin looked down without a trace of a smile.

"I don't know what I am," he mumbled. "I never have."

Gwen didn't quite know what to say to that, but it was obvious that Merlin couldn't be left alone in this state. "Come on, have you eaten yet today?" Half-pulling him up, teasing and cajoling, she managed to get him out of the room and into the presence of their friends among the knights. Eventually their companionship pulled Merlin out of his depression and he didn't mention his oddity to Gwen again, but that didn't mean he didn't think about it himself.

As years went by, he tried to convince himself that Gwen was right, that his lack of aging was nothing to worry about. That it was unusual but not unnatural. He pretended not to see the looks he got from the castle's residents- it was easier than one might expect, since his close friends never mentioned it or treated him any differently than they ever had. For 12 years, he ignored the whispers.

Until the day he returned to Ealdor for his mother's funeral.


	3. 47

**A/N: I usually don't bother much with disclaimers (since if I actually owned Merlin I would probably have better things to do with my time than write fanfiction) but this chapter has a direct quote that I know you'll recognize (I just couldn't help putting it in, it was too perfect). So here it is: Merlin is property of BBC, and the quote belongs to JK Rowling. Now on with the story!**

_Until the day he returned to Ealdor for his mother's funeral._

* * *

><p>"So you see, my lady, if we increase the wheat production in the southeastern villages, it could be very beneficial for trade with-"<p>

The councilman's monotonous voice was suddenly cut off by a resounding boom that shook the castle from floor to rafters. Gwen and the rest of the members of the round table jolted awake and began clamoring for an explanation. After a few minutes chaos, Gwen got everyone back under control and asked, in a voice that let everyone know that she wouldn't stand for any nonsense, "Does anyone know the meaning of this?"

"I think I do," said a half-amused voice from across the large table.

"Sir Gwaine?"

Gwaine stood, leaned on his cane, and smirked. "If I had to guess, your majesty, I'd say that Merlin's back. And he isn't happy."

"Understatement of the year," Leon muttered.

"With my lady's leave I'd like to go see him," Gwaine went on, ignoring Leon. "I'm sure you can continue your extremely fascinating conversation without me."

Several members of the council suppressed snickers, and even Gwen had to hide her smile before saying, "I suppose we might be able to make do. If it isn't Merlin, though, please report back with all due haste."

"Of course, my lady. I wish you the best of luck with your agriculture planning," Gwaine said, with a player's sweeping bow. Returning the glares of his fellow knights with an unrepentant smile, he left the council chamber in search of his upset friend. He knew that Merlin was the only thing, magical or natural, with the power to shake the ancient castle, so it had to be him, but it puzzled Gwaine as well. Merlin had left a week ago in response to an urgent letter from Ealdor. His mother had taken ill quite suddenly and was not expected to make it another fortnight. Merlin was supposed to have been gone that entire length of time- that he had returned so soon meant something must have gone wrong. For the first time in his life, Gwaine was glad that his peg leg made it difficult to walk places by himself. He was in no particular hurry to cross paths with an angry warlock.

When he finally made it to Merlin's chambers, he immediately knew his intuition was justified. A cacophony of bangs, slams, and curses came from the other side of the closed door. Stealing himself, Gwaine pushed the door open and peered in, not entirely sure what he expected to see.

It was certainly not the sight that greeted him in Merlin's chambers.

The room was a shambles, belongings strewn everywhere, the bed curtains torn down, and the table overturned. A large trunk stood open in the center of the room, and random items seemed to be flying into it of their own accord; Gwaine had to duck as a candlestick narrowly missed striking him on the head. Merlin himself, however, was nowhere in sight. Stepping a little further inside, Gwaine called out for his friend.

"Merlin? It's a good thing you're back, I thought I was going to have to fake a very embarrassing accident for Percival in order to get out of that meeting..." He laughed, hoping to draw Merlin out with his easy-going humor, but no answering chuckle met his ears. Instead, under the din caused by the flying objects, Gwaine heard a small noise coming from behind the dressing room screen. Dodging his way across the room, he peeked around the screen.

Merlin was no longer shouting, cursing, or hitting things. Merlin, the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, was... crying.

"Merlin?" Gwaine said quietly.

Merlin jerked, caught unawares, and immediately the flying objects dropped to the ground. He swiped an arm over his face and looked up at Gwaine with a terribly mockery of his usual cocky grin. "Hello, Gwaine. Come to see what a monster looks like?"

Gwaine felt as if he'd been slapped. Merlin was his best friend, one of the bravest, kindest, and most self-sacrificing men he knew. And he thought of himself as a monster?

"Merlin, my friend, you are rather a sight at the moment, but I wouldn't go that far yet. Although if I was judging by the state of this room..." Gwaine smirked at Merlin, trying to coax a laugh, but Merlin only managed a weak smile that was in no way genuine. Gwaine sighed, braced himself on his cane, and offered a hand to help Merlin stand. For a moment Gwaine thought Merlin might refuse, but then he allowed Gwaine to pull him to his feet. With a lazy flick of his wrist, Merlin repaired the bed curtains and they both sat on the bed. Neither spoke for awhile, but finally Gwaine couldn't take it anymore. "What happened?"

Merlin didn't look at him. "They threw me out," he whispered to the floor.

"What?" Gwaine asked, hoping he'd misunderstood.

"They threw me out. Of Ealdor," Merlin replied, brokenly. "My mother..."

"Your _mother_ threw you out?!" Gwaine cried, outraged.

"No! No, Gwaine, let me, let me start at the beginning," Merlin said, still addressing the floor. His thin shoulders shuddered as he took a deep breath, then began his story. "You know I left for Ealdor a week ago. It was an awful journey; I ran into two sets of bandits, my horse cast a shoe, and there was a terrible storm in the southern hills that delayed me two days. I didn't reach Ealdor until this morning, and by the time I got there, my mother... my mother had passed on."

Merlin stopped, tears choking his voice. Gwaine, unsure, put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, his words sounding weak and useless against the weight of his friend's grief. After a few moments, Merlin collected himself and went on with his story.

"I saw her, in the casket, when I rode in. The whole village was out, getting ready for the funeral. Small village like ours, everybody knew my mother. They stopped what they were doing when I came in, but," he paused and swallowed hard, "they didn't know me. Our headman looked at me and said, 'You're too late, son. Where's your father?'"

"Your father? You told me he died years ago, not long before we met."

"He did, and as far as they knew, I'd never met my father. They didn't mean my father, they meant... me."

Gwaine looked at Merlin, utterly perplexed. "But you just said they asked for your father, how-"

"Gwaine," Merlin said, finally looking up to meet Gwaine's eyes. "They thought I was my son."

"Your _what_? My God, Merlin, maybe I'd better give you more credit, I thought you'd never had a girl in your life-"

"Don't be an idiot, Gwaine, you know I don't have a son. But I hadn't been to Ealdor in almost 25 years, and when they saw me, they just assumed that since I couldn't be Merlin, I must be Merlin's son."

"Why couldn't you be yourself?" Gwaine asked. Deep down, he knew the answer, but he'd gotten so used to avoiding the issue that he didn't consider it a problem.

"Why couldn't- look at me! Just look at me!" he shouted, gesturing to his youthful form. "What kind of 47-year-old man looks like this? They didn't believe me at first when I said who I was, and when they did, they were afraid of me!"

"Well, you are, you know, the most powerful sorcerer in the world and all that. It might put people off just a bit..."

"Stop it, Gwaine, don't tell me you haven't noticed! Yes, I'm a sorcerer, I'm a sorcerer who hasn't aged one damn day since Arthur died! A sorcerer who only has to look in the mirror to be reminded of the day he failed his destiny, failed his best friend..." Merlin broke off as tears threatened again, this time more angry than grief-stricken.

"Merlin, it's not your fault-"

"Isn't it?" Merlin cried, standing. He was shaking with anger. "Don't tell me this is all normal, Gwaine! I grew up with those people, they were my friends, my neighbors, but when they finally understood who I was, they told me I was cursed and to keep away from them. They pulled their children away from me, like I would hurt them just by being there. They ran me out of town so that I couldn't even be at my own mother's funeral." Merlin's voice softened, so that Gwaine had to strain to hear the last words. "They said I must be a monster, and they're right, aren't they? I am."

Gwaine had always had a hot, fiery temper, but something in Merlin's voice, so full of despair, grief, and betrayal, made him feel ice cold. If the ones who had done this to Merlin were standing in front of him, Gwaine thought he could cut them down without a second's hesitation or remorse. He struggled to keep the emotion out of his voice as he said, "Merlin, if you say that about yourself again, I may have to hurt you. I never let anyone insult my friends."

Merlin looked almost startled. "But I'm, I'm-"

"You, _Merlin_, are my friend. I don't care about the rest of it. You can be a warlock and a Druid king and immortal and destined to save the world and an intolerably lightweight drinker, but none of that makes you any less my friend. It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Merlin looked at him skeptically. "You didn't come up with that," he accused.

"What? You think I can't make my own deep philosophical insights?" Gwaine asked in a parody of a deep scholarly tone. Merlin actually laughed, which brightened Gwaine's mood considerably. "Ok, fine, I read it in a book once, happy? The point is, whatever else you are, you will always be Merlin, and that is all I or anyone else in this castle cares about. It doesn't matter what Ealdor thinks. You belong here, and that's their loss. All right?"

Merlin could hardly believe what he was hearing. He felt Gwaine's words pierce the dark self-loathing that had filled his soul since he'd been cast out that morning. He'd felt like all the people in the world that cared about him had died with his mother, but now here was a man who was claiming him as his best friend. There was no way Merlin could express any of this to Gwaine, so he simply said, "Thanks, Gwaine."

"Eh, don't mention it," the knight said, his eyes dancing. "Really, don't. I got a reputation to protect."

"My lips are sealed," Merlin promised, then actually smiled.

Gwaine was glad to see his friend was recovered enough to have a sense of humor, but noticed that he was still shaking. When he looked closer, Gwaine saw that Merlin was pale, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. "Are you feeling alright, Merlin?"

"Oh, I'm just a little shaky," the warlock replied, trying to be nonchalant. "I used a transportation spell to get back here. I shouldn't have; it takes too much power, and I left my horse and everything behind, but I couldn't stay a minute longer in... back there." He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "I'm fine, really."

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Why can't you ever take care of yourself instead of everyone else for once? Into bed, princess." he ordered. Merlin made as if to protest, but Gwaine cut him off. "Do you know how many times I've heard you say 'Sit down, Gwaine,' or 'Don't overwork yourself, Gwaine' or 'You have to rest, you can't push that leg anymore, Gwaine'? Well, consider this revenge. Bed. Now."

Merlin wanted to argue, but he knew even better than Gwaine that he needed to rest. The use of so much power had left him drained, and together with the emotional turmoil he'd been through today he could barely stand up straight. With a half- reluctant, half-thankful smile, he got into bed as Gwaine stood to leave. Before Gwaine reached the door, though, he managed to bang his good foot on Merlin's trunk, still in the middle of the room. He swore and hopped crazily on his cane to keep his balance, while Merlin attempted to keep from laughing.

"You think that was funny, do you? Why is this damn thing out, anyway?" Gwaine grumbled, having regained his footing.

Merlin smiled. "It doesn't matter now," he said, almost to himself. His vague, anger-filled plans of running away now seemed terribly foolish. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

><p>And he didn't. Merlin stayed in Camelot, by Gwen's side, as she ruled the newly-united land of Albion. Seemingly, things went back to the way they were, but Merlin never forgot his experience in Ealdor. Starting the very day he returned, he began to use his magic to gradually age his body, so that no one would ever run from him in fear again. While his close friends knew that Merlin was aging himself by force, as the years went by they became accustomed to seeing his older face.<p>

He stayed and watched as Gwen brought her people through what would become known as the "Golden Age" of peace and prosperity. He watched as Leon, Percival, and the other knights of their generation retired from the battlefield, though most stayed on as trusted members of the court. He watched as Gwen herself began to transfer more and more of her duties to Arthur's young cousin Constantine, who did well and cared for the people of Camelot as his own. For 35 years Merlin watched, always there, always helping the people he was born to serve.

Until one by one, they began to slip away from him.


	4. 80

_Until one by one, they began to slip away from him._

* * *

><p>Gwen sat alone at her desk, struggling to focus on the report in front of her. Constantine had told her to rest, that he could take care of it, but being queen was a hard habit to break after 56 years. Besides, her mind was as sharp as it ever was. It was her body, so much more tired these days, that made the words swim before her eyes and the paper shake in her veined hands.<p>

When a knock sounded on her door, she welcomed the distraction gladly. "Come in," she called. Upon seeing her visitors, she greeted them with her signature smile that was the one reminder of the girl she had been. "Merlin! Damien! Come in! How is Leon?"

"We have made him as comfortable as may be, my lady," said Damien, shuffling nervously. Gwen had to stop herself from glaring at the man; he'd replaced Gaius as court physician, and although he had performed his duty well for many years, often with Merlin's assistance, something about Damien had always set Gwen on edge. She thought it was probably the way he always looked so nervous. It was hard not to be annoyed by a man who looked at you like you might hit him at any moment.

"And?" she asked, shaking off her irritation. "How is he?"

Merlin and Damien exchanged glances. "He is... stable, for now, but very weak," the physician said finally, but he didn't meet Gwen's eyes. Gwen frowned and looked at Merlin, knowing he would give her the news straight out.

He did. "Leon's dying, Gwen. He has some time- maybe a week or two, maybe a month, but sometime soon..." Merlin shook his head. "I've sent for his son and daughter-in-law. They should be here, when he actually... goes."

"Is there nothing you can do?" the queen asked, her voice shaking slightly. In her heart, she knew the news wasn't entirely unexpected, and that Merlin would not have told her unless there really was no hope, but she had to ask anyway.

"I'm afraid not, my lady," Damien answered, looking at Gwen out of the corner of his eye as if afraid of her reaction. "He's lived a good, full life, but he's just too old, now. It's his time." He flinched out of nervous reflex, and Gwen felt an un-queen-like urge to give him something to flinch from. Perhaps Merlin did as well, for he flinched too, away from the physician.

"Very well. Thank you, Damien," she said once she could trust her voice not to betray her emotion. Damien bowed and gratefully left the room. Merlin remained, leaning on his staff, his long white beard trembling slightly. There was an odd look in his bright blue eyes; if Gwen didn't know better, she'd say it was fear.

"Merlin? Are you alright?"

He started, and immediately the odd expression disappeared. "I'm fine, I'm just worried about... Leon."

That wasn't what he'd been about to say, or at least not all of it, but Gwen chose to ignore this. When one of your friends was dying, you were entitled to odd emotions. Gwen herself had known this was coming, so she felt no shock or anger, but just a heavy sorrow that seemed to weigh down her already tired bones.

"Will you help me to the bed?" she asked. Like the servant he'd been, Merlin immediately took her arm and helped her out of the desk's seat. It still humiliated her a little that she could not walk well unassisted anymore, but it simply could not be helped. She was old; some things has to change, no matter how much she wanted them not to. Speaking of which...

"Thank you," she said, as Merlin's surprisingly strong arm deposited her on the bed. He nodded and seemed about to leave, but she quickly called out, "Merlin, wait. There's something... something I want to talk to you about."

He gave her a puzzled look but did come back and sat in a chair near the bed. "Yes?"

"You know I haven't been acting queen for several years now," she began hesitantly.

"And..." Merlin said, not entirely liking the turn of this conversation.

"And it's time- past time- to officially turn the kingdom of Camelot over to my successor," she said, trying to keep her composure. Even though she knew the words were true, they seemed to stick in her throat. It was so hard to give up what you'd spent your life working for. "Camelot needs a strong leader, one who can care for them long after I'm gone."

Merlin met her eyes for a long moment, taking in the news. Then he smiled, approving of her decision. "Constantine will be a great king," he agreed.

"Merlin," she said, her dark eyes meeting his blue ones. "I want you to be my successor."

"WHAT?" Merlin squawked, jumping up from his chair in surprise.  
>"No! Have you lost your mind? I- I'm a sorcerer!"<p>

"The ban on magic has been lifted for over 50 years," Gwen said, glaring at him. "You know there's not a single citizen of Camelot who would hold that against you now."

"But I have no right to the throne!" Merlin said, panicking slightly. She actually seemed serious about this.

"As much right as I had as a lady's maid."

"But that's different! You married Arthur, you're a Pendragon now. I'm just a servant."

"Merlin," Gwen chided. "Even when you were a servant, which you haven't been in years, you know that wasn't true."

Merlin sighed. "Fine, maybe not _just_ a servant, but I'm not a noble, Gwen. I have no right to the throne of Camelot. Constantine-"

She cut him off. "Constantine is a fine man, but he isn't like you, Merlin. You KNOW this kingdom. You know the people, from the lowliest servants to the highest nobles."

"Maybe once, but not anymore," Merlin mumbled.

Gwen continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You know more about running this kingdom than anyone. You were there when Arthur was learning what it meant to be a ruler. You've probably attended more meetings of state than anyone in this castle, first at Arthur's side and then at mine. You've been the most highly trusted adviser for me, for Arthur-"

"As I will be for Constantine," Merlin interrupted firmly. Gwen exhaled exasperatedly, but Merlin held up a hand to keep her from speaking. "Listen to me, Gwen. It was always my destiny to serve and protect Arthur. So I served him-" he swallowed hard, "and I served you both for your own sake and for his. And I would proudly serve Constantine for as long as he and this kingdom have need of me, but I cannot be king, Gwen. It's not who I am meant to be."

"But you could be, Merlin. The people love you," Gwen protested, her words bringing a sudden, unexpected pain to Merlin's eyes.

"They don't," he said, quietly but firmly. "At least... not the real me."

"Of course they do, Merlin, what are you talking about?" Gwen asked, bewildered. Merlin gave her a long, hard look, as if she should know the answer, but she simply stared at him, unable to grasp the message in his eyes.

"You don't get it, do you?" Merlin said, suddenly angry. He stood, took a small vial out of his robes, and quickly downed the contents. Gwen watched from the bed, astonished, as Merlin disappeared in a puff of smoke and was replaced with...

"Merlin?" she croaked, her voice breaking.

There he was, black-haired, smooth-skinned, beardless, and _young_. His clothes had transformed back into his old brown jacket, blue shirt, and red kerchief. He glared at Gwen with a face she hadn't seen in 35 years. It was like looking back in time, or at a ghost.

"Yeah, it's me, the same one you were talking to not thirty seconds ago," Merlin said bitterly. Even his voice was light and youthful again. "THIS is the real me."

"What... what did you do?" Gwen asked, unable to stop staring.

"All I did was take the aging enchantment off," he replied wearily. "This is how I really am, Gwen. You knew that."

"I- I did, but-" She couldn't finish the sentence. She _had_ known. She'd seen Merlin exactly as he stood before her now every day for over 20 years. He'd told her when he decided to start making himself appear older, after his last, disastrous trip to Ealdor. In the back of her mind, she'd known that Merlin's changing appearance was his own choice.

But somehow, none of that information connected to the living, breathing, 24-year-old Merlin that stood in front of her now.

"You see, Gwen?" Merlin said, his soft voice breaking the brief silence. "I can't be king as long as I'm like this."

It took Gwen a moment to remember what they'd been talking about, and longer to apply this new information to the discussion. Once she'd gotten her thoughts in order, though, she didn't see what Merlin meant. "Why not? Camelot would have a wise, strong king on the throne for a long time to come. It's-"

"No!" Merlin shouted, unable to restrain himself any longer. He began to pace. "Gwen, nothing good would come of my becoming king. If I revealed myself, if I started going around like this again and told the people that I was going to be their immortal king, do you know what would happen?" He paused, but then went on before Gwen could say a word. "It'd be Ealdor all over again. People fear what they don't understand, and I don't want people to fear me, ever." He paused again, a pained expression on his face, obviously still hurt by his own people's rejection of him. Then he continued.

"If we don't say anything, and you name me as your successor as my "old" self, the council will never approve. Technically, I am older than you." He half-smiled, and the irony of that statement coming from his young mouth was not lost on Gwen. "They'll ask how replacing an old queen with someone even older will help Camelot remain strong. That is, of course, assuming they get past the fact that you want to put a peasant with no relation to the Pendragon line on the throne of Camelot. And even if you convince them to agree to that, eventually they are going to notice. They're going to wonder how an 80-year-old man can still be perfectly healthy 30 years later. There'll be questions, and whispers, and rumors that I'm cursed. That my unnaturalness" -he spat the word out- "is a curse on Camelot. They may even start to fear sorcery again, or think that I'm using some sort of dark magic." He caught his breath, and Gwen was astonished to see he had tears in his eyes. "I waited too long for magic to return to Camelot. I won't be the downfall of everything we worked to build."

Gwen stared, stunned by this speech. "I- don't know- what to say," she said brokenly. "You've thought about this before."

Merlin nodded.

"You're not going to stay," she continued, her mind putting the pieces together at last.

"I'll stay as long as I can," Merlin replied. "Certainly long enough to help Constantine settle in as king of Camelot. But I can't stay forever, Gwen." He sat and turned his face away. His next words were not meant for her, but she caught them anyway. "Eventually, there won't be anything to keep me here."

Gwen froze. In that moment, she understood Merlin's brief look of fear from earlier. For him, Leon was the beginning of the end. In time, she and their other friends would pass on, leaving Merlin... alone. Alone, and forced to leave his only home for it's own protection.

He would have to watch as everything he loved slipped away from him.

"Oh, Merlin," she breathed. He looked up, and his eyes looked so old and lost that Gwen had to hold back a gasp. She struggled off of the bed, forcing strength into her weakened body, and took a few laborious steps to wrap her arms around the young warlock. He stiffened, then relaxed, taking comfort from the embrace. They stood there as long as they could, but eventually Gwen's body couldn't take it anymore and she had to sit.

"Thank you," Merlin said quietly, as he helped her back to the bed. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he simply didn't have the words. Instead, he straightened and, with a distinct change in tone, said, "Shall I go tell Constantine the good news, then?"

Gwen felt a brief urge to protest, but it died when she met his determined face. He was right. He always was. "I suppose so."

He nodded, a pleased look in his eye, and reached into his jacket to pull out another vial. Instead of drinking it straight away, though, he looked at the potion, smiling ironically. "You know, when I first used this, I was so mad that I would look like some old hermit by the time I was 80. I never guessed that when I was actually 80 I'd look like this." He glanced down once more at his young body, then tipped the potion into his mouth. Instantly, Gwen was staring at the old, bearded man she was accustomed to seeing these past few years.

"I will never get used to that," she remarked, shaking her gray head.

Merlin gave a snort of laughter. "Believe me," he said, his voice low and gravelly again. "It's not any easier from this end."

* * *

><p>Leon died just a week after Constantine officially took the throne. Percival followed a few years later. Gwaine managed to last a good while longer, saying that all that ale kept him young, but in time he, too, succumbed to old age.<p>

Merlin stayed all that time, hiding the fear that grew every time one of his friends passed on, leaving him behind. As he had promised Gwen, he faithfully aided and counseled Constantine through the first few years of his reign, until it became clear that he was a wise and fair ruler, worthy to fill Gwen's place. Merlin was glad to be leaving the kingdom in such capable hands, and began spending more and more time at Gwen's bedside. Often she asked to have him sit with her with his true appearance- she told him that when she saw his younger form, it was easier to picture Arthur there, with them.

He was with her when she died.

Her death marked the end of an era, for both Camelot and Merlin. He mourned with the rest of the kingdom, and stayed to attend what would be known as the biggest funeral in Camelot's history. Once the ceremonies were over, however, Merlin quietly returned to his room and collected his pack and a small blue vial.

Nobody noticed when a raven-haired boy left the castle that night, prepared to wait the endless years alone until the day his king would return to reign once more.


End file.
